


Tea for Two

by nonnymouse



Series: The Murder Trifecta [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bad Things Happen to Bitty, Incubus Kent, M/M, Masturbation, Snuff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: Kent chose Jack Zimmermann as his human many years ago. When someone interferes with his claim, it's only natural that he defends his territory.Or, Kent Parson is the most extra.





	1. Iced Bitty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kinkmeme prompt:
> 
> "Kent/Jack, Kent/Bitty, incubus, snuff
> 
> Kent is an incubus who wants Jack back. But first he has to seduce and eliminate the new competition.
> 
> (Jack and Bitty can also be magical beings of some sort.)"
> 
> https://omgkinkplease.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=73290

It took a few days before Kent found the right opportunity. But there was Bitty, stumbling drunkenly from the Haus to pack a frog (who looked even less sober than himself) into an Uber with some pie. "Bitty?" he called out when the car left, before his prey could cross the threshold back into his home.

"Parse?" Bitty replied in disbelief, but he walked toward him, away from the lights of the house party, instead of staying on the front walk. "Shouldn't you be in Vegas?" he asked with a puzzled frown.

"Seeing Jack at the game the other day—I wanted to talk to you. I don't know what Jack told you about our breakup, but there are some things you should know."

Bitty frowned a little, nervously plucking the hem of his shirt. It drew Kent's gaze down, and he focused on the little navy shorts Bitty wore. He bet from the back they cupped his ass perfectly. Maybe Bitty did have a sexy side, beneath the cutesy housewife act. Jack had to be denying him for something worth it.

"I dunno," Bitty finally said. "I trust Jack."

Reaching out, Kent touched one of those nervous hands. "Just get in the car, okay?" He waited for Bitty to nod, watched for the pupils getting bigger in those huge eyes of his. He was pretty, Eric Bittle. Blond and gay and into hockey, the perfect temptation falling right into Jack's lap.

Obediently, Bitty got into the car, and Kent sped him away to the hotel. Or motel, he supposed was more accurate. It was the nicest place he could find that would let him pay in cash and not leave a name, which meant it was still seedy as hell. When Bitty understandably balked about getting out of the car, Kent put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It's not that bad. Just go inside."

He walked behind Bitty, ready to grab him if he tried to run. That little hockey butt did look nice in those shorts. But Bitty didn't even fight his persuasion.

It wasn't much of a surprise. The honest love of another normally provided protection against an incubus, enough to make them target easier prey. But Bitty had Jack's love, and Jack was Kent's, chosen those many years ago, which meant that Bitty was Kent's and would've been easy to influence even without the alcohol in his system. Kent had accepted that Jack needed to play the field a bit  before coming back to him; humans weren't ready to settle down in their teens. Smelling love on him at the game—no. Jack's love belonged to Kent. Not an insipid human. Definitely not Eric fucking Bittle.

Eliminating the interloper seemed like the easiest solution.

After Kent opened the door and ushered him in, Bitty hovered awkwardly by the bed, covered in a hideous flowered bedspread that smelled of human sweat and sex. "What did you want to say?" he asked. He eyed the bedspread with distaste, and clearly would never sit on it without coercion.

So Kent threw him onto the bed, smirking at the squeak he made when he bounced. "I lied," he said. "I don't want to talk." He quickly climbed onto the bed, pinning Bitty down and kissing him. For a few moments, Bitty fought, but Kent's hands were on his arms, his tongue on his lips, and soon enough Bitty was passionately kissing him back. Kent changed his hold to a caress, peeling off Bitty's shirt and shorts to reveal that he wasn't wearing underwear. Kent doubted they'd have fit beneath the shorts without showing.

"What a little slut," he said, wrapping his hand around Bitty's sweet little dick.

The word cut through for a moment, Bitty's arousal dropping. "No," he said, but then Kent kissed him again.

"I'm not Jack," he said. "I'm not your boyfriend. That makes you a slut, little Bitty. Say it," he commanded him, holding Bitty's chin so that he couldn't look away from Kent's eyes.

"I'm a slut," he said in a high, wobbling voice, previous arousal returning.

"That's right." Kent went right back to kissing him, Bitty's mouth easily opening beneath his, letting him plunder freely. He played Bitty's body with his hands, rubbing his little nipples and other erogenous zones while he pondered his flavor. Bitty's aura tasted like honey, thick and sweet, with a hint of tangy lemon. He'd taste good with iced tea.

That reminded Kent of the vending machine in the hall. "Wait here," he said with a clasp to the back of Bitty's neck, and then he left Bitty dazed on the bed.

After parting with too many coins, Kent had a bottle of overly sweet, mass-produced iced tea. He took a swig, and opened the door to Bitty struggling to put on his shorts. He'd apparently fallen off the bed in the attempt and was flopping on the floor to pull them up. "Sorry, babe," he said. "That's not happening." He pulled Bitty to his feet and held the bottle to his lips. "Drink."

"I'm already drunk," Bitty said, pushing it away.

"It's just tea. You Southern boys like that, right?"

Hesitantly, Bitty took a sip. Then a bigger gulp when Kent proved honest. "Guess I was feeling a little thirsty."

"That's right," Kent said, taking a drink of his own. "But now you feel good."

There was no resistance when he bent to kiss him. Now the taste was perfect, the iced tea flavoring his mouth. The balance pleased Kent, and he sucked a little of that energy in—not too much since Bitty wasn't ripe yet—and he realized Bitty was still a virgin.

"You and Jack haven't?" he asked, too startled to hold the question back.

Bitty blushed. "With the long distance, we haven't been on that many dates. I'm just not ready."

"No, you little slut," Kent said, ripping those tiny shorts apart with his hands, "you were saving yourself for me, weren't you? You knew how hungry I'd be for you. You knew that once I saw you with Jack, I'd come calling and take what I was owed. You've been asking for this. You're ready now, aren't you?"

Bitty shook his head.

Kent squeezed his ass, rather enjoying it. He pulled Bitty close, both hands massaging the curves of his ass. At least he had a good body, shaped by hockey more than pie.

"I'm ready." Bitty sounded breathless as he told Kent what he had to if he wanted more. "Because I'm a slut. I'm Kent Parson's slut."

Kent stuck his own fingers in his mouth, licked them a little, slid one into Bitty's ass and held it there, gently rubbing the inside of his ass to get him to relax. The quick motion made him tense first, but he melted against Kent without much coaxing. Bitty really was a little feast. Normally he'd eat such a human in several meals, letting the flavor grow and marinate. But there could be no chance of Bitty escaping. He was going to gorge himself on the little virgin.

As Bitty relaxed, Kent spat in his other hand and rubbed it on his cock. He hadn't seen a need to go all out and buy lube for Bitty. He'd be plenty aroused due to Kent anyway. Kent laid on the bed and pulled the unresisting Bitty on top of him, easing the tip of his cock in. Kent could easily manhandle an average human, and Bitty was so short that it was almost effortless to rock him back and forth, rubbing the tip of Kent's cock on his rim.

"Is that good?" he asked.

Bitty nodded, looking like a porcelain bobblehead. "It hurts," he said, with pleased wonder.

"Good. Now ride me, you little  slut. Fuck yourself on my cock."

Looking upset again, Bitty paused. "I don't—"

Kent grabbed the bottle of iced tea, handed it to him. He was tired of having to soothe Bitty's feelings. It was time to get him too distracted by pleasure to think. "Drink some more." He passed Bitty the bottle, trailed his fingers down Bitty's throat and chest, as if tracing the path of the liquid. He smirked when the bottle slipped from Bitty's fingers and he groaned. "That's right. Now, what did we agree earlier?"

"I'm a slut."

"And what do you want to do?"

"Fuck myself on your cock."

"And why do you want to do it?"

"I'm a slut," Bitty cried as he forced himself down, roughly taking his own virginity. Skating had given him strong thighs, a powerful core, and he used them to work himself up and down quickly, his tight hole gripping every inch of Kent's cock. "I'm a slut," he kept chanting as he worked those hips, his sexual energy growing every time he slammed himself down. Each time he said it as if he believed it more, starting to relish the words.

Kent was relieved Jack had never seen him lost to abandon, nose scrunched up and sweet little chest heaving with pleasure above him. "You're beautiful," Kent told him honestly. "You could've kept Jack forever, I think. You wouldn't have challenged him, so he'd never leave you, but he'd never grow like he needs to."

Confusion creased his face, briefly breaking through the euphoria. "Jack?"

"He'll never have you now, you cheating little slut. Giving away your virginity in a sleazy motel room." And Kent would never understand humans, because Bitty's arousal finally peaked, and Kent began to drink him down. Honey and lemons mingled with the taste of ice tea still coating his mouth, cool and refreshing.

With Bitty's athletic stamina, Kent managed to drain him quite a bit before his rhythm began faltering and he swayed, looking faint.

"It's okay," he said, gently picking Bitty up and lowering him to the bed. "I can take it from here." Bitty only had enough left in him to whimper as Kent fucked his tired body. Still aroused, he parted his lips for a kiss, but Kent ignored him. He concentrated on pulling every last bit of energy out, peeling away that last stubborn piece that resisted him in one chunk. He came as it blasted through him, spilling his seed into Bitty's now limp body.

He practically whistled as he dressed. A shower would be nice, but he could wait until he got home. He didn't want to venture to think what fungus was growing in the motel shower. He checked the mirror as he pulled on his hat to make sure the snapback rested at the proper angle. He grinned at the new shot of sweetness in his own aura. He wondered if Jack would sense it. The only thing left of Eric Bittle now was Kent Parson.

With that thought, he turned to look at his erstwhile rival. Bitty looked as if merely resting, curled into a fetal position. That wouldn't do. Kent pulled his legs impossibly wide apart, not limited by the resistance of live muscles that knew not to stretch too far. No one could miss the spill of semen trickling from his battered hole.

The humans would never know exactly what happened to him. Medically, it would look like organ failure. Kent's fluids would come back inconclusive for DNA. All the police would have was a room paid for in cash and a stolen car.

That was if no one in the fleabag motel decided to have fun with Bitty's body themselves. It seemed like that kind of place.

He hoped that didn't happen though, that they left him in place and called the police, because then Jack would know Bitty died after fucking another man. There were no signs of a struggle, after all. Only an iced tea. Bitty had cheated on Jack for shitty, bottled iced tea.

Kent would be there when he felt like he couldn't cry to his teammates or friends, not without leaving his cozy little closet.

Kent snapped his fingers, traveling back to his home in Vegas, and made sure his phone was on the charger. Kent would be waiting.


	2. Champagne on Ice(d Bitty)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years in the future, Kent and Jack get married.
> 
> I indulge in my love of irony.

"They say you never get over your first love," Jack said awkwardly.

Kent turned to look at him, puzzled. He'd already managed to take off his tuxedo jacket and his bow tie hung loose, even though they'd just entered the honeymoon suite. "I think you're too late for the speeches, Zimms. Those were downstairs."

"No, Kenny, sit," he said, and Kent sat on the white, fluffy duvet strewn with rose petals. The hotel had gone all out for their celebrity wedding couple.

He knelt in front of Kent, taking his hand between his own. He couldn't help staring at the tasteful antique band that now graced Kent's finger. He couldn't believe they were married. So he said that.

"I can't believe that we're married. Not after what I did. Kenny, you're everything to me, and you have been for a long time. When we were teenagers, I threw you away like what we had didn't matter. Then I finally call you back, and it's because my boyfriend has died and I needed a shoulder to cry on. Like a selfish fuck." He can't hide the self-recrimination in his words.

"Jack," Kent interrupted him. His voice had that fond tone he got whenever he thought Jack was being particularly silly. "I understood that it was more complicated than that."

Jack shook his head, a little surprised when no hair flopped into his eyes. They'd both had haircuts after the season and before the wedding, and it was still new. And he was letting his mind rabbit, because he didn't want to think about the photos the cops had shown him when they'd found out he was Eric's secret boyfriend and thought he could be a suspect. Him and every trucker who'd ever picked up a two-bit hooker. Whenever he thought of Eric, that photo was what he remembered first. Eric's obscenely spread legs and well-fucked hole. He'd never truly known Eric, no matter what he'd felt about him. That photograph was his only memory of the real Eric Bittle.

He tried to get himself back on track. "I thought it was the worst thing to ever happen to me. But every single day, I'm more thankful that I found out Bittle was cheating on me. That a freak medical condition at the right moment revealed the truth before we told everyone and came out together. I want to say that it saved me from making the worst mistake of my life. But I'd already make that mistake when I walked away from you. What that stroke of luck gave me was the opportunity to fix my mistake."

He swallowed, trying to hold back the tears of happiness threatening to interrupt his speech. He'd worked so hard on what he wanted to say, to tell Kenny how much he meant to Jack. "Looking back, I think I was trying to replace you and fill the hole leaving you had left me with. But you can't replace Kent Parson. Kent, Kenny, I would spend the rest of my life groveling if I had to. I can't believe how lucky I am that instead I get to wake up every morning as your husband, to love and cherish you. To be faithful. I'm going to spend the rest of my life treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I've never known a better man than you, Kenny. I'll never get over you, because I got it right the first time. You were my first everything, and I vow you'll be my last everything, too."

Now both of them were tearing up. "I'll toast to that," Kent said, snagging the flutes that had been left on a silver tray. Jack took one from him, the glass chill beneath his fingers.

Kent took a breath, then held his glass out. "To first love, and final love."

"To true love overcoming all obstacles," Jack said, clinking his glass to Kent's. They wrapped their arms around each other to drink from the other's glass.

The bubbles hit the back of his mouth, cool and sweet. There was an interesting taste to the champagne, not what he'd had before at celebrations.

When he set down the drained glass, he asked Kent if he knew what vintage it was.

"It's a special cocktail I ordered," he said. "Champagne, mixed with iced tea, a twist of lemon, and honey drizzle on the rim."

"I don't get it," Jack said honestly. Kent had planned most of the wedding, and was big on symbolism that went over Jack's head. He didn't seem to mind when Jack didn't quite get his romantic gestures.

"I was drinking lemon honey tea when you came back into my life. It's the taste that reminds me what I'll do for love."

And then it's a blur of hands and mouths, Kent's glorious cock deep inside Jack as if they really can become one, Kent bending over and staring into his eyes as they fuck, the bed still made and their tuxes still mostly on. He'd meant to take it slow and romantic for their first time as husbands, but fast and frantic is what he needs. He needs Kent like he needs air. Like this, he knows Kent needs him just as much.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he cries out as Kent fucks him. Every other word escapes him. All that's left is his gratitude to Kent, to the universe, for the fact that Jack has everything he ever wanted. He's an impossibly lucky man.


	3. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent relishes his victory, in the most extra fashion possible.

Although Kent no longer needed to grab a meal on the road since he was once more with his chosen, he liked sex. So he still masturbated whenever the mood struck, calling up his many, many memories and fantasies of Jack. But on nights he was at his coldest and loneliest, Kent's thoughts turned to Eric Bittle.

Tonight, he was in that particular mood, and with one snap of his fingers, he was at Bitty's grave. Bitty had been buried near Samwell, since his parents had refused to have anything to do with the scandal of it. They mailed the insurance check to Shitty, Jack's college friend, who had fundraised for a small burial, complete with headstone. Jack had heard about it through the grapevine; he'd told Kent about how relieved he'd been when Shitty hadn't asked him for money out of respect for the whole cheating situation. He'd been happy for the easy out, not to be put on the spot to do something nice for the living who still cared for Bitty. It warmed Kent's heart, to know Bitty went un-memorialized by Jack.

In the end, the off-campus grave turned out to be rather convenient, since Bitty had become a bit of a legend at Samwell. They said that if you wanted to hook-up with strangers, you needed to bring an offering to his grave first, and then return with another offering when you got home safely. Underwear and condoms, both new and used, seemed to be the most popular option. Knowing how much Bitty would hate his grave looking like a infectious trash heap always gave Kent an extra glow.

The gravekeeper did work to keep Bitty's headstone clean, but some college kid would always return to tag it again. Currently, the words were in red. The Slut's Throne. A fitting title.

"Hey, St. Bitty of the Sluts," Kent greeted his former rival. He could afford a cheery greeting. He'd won, after all.

He'd stripped off before traveling, so he'd made sure to stay in the aether so no passing human would see him.

Glad he wouldn't actually touch the nasty offerings littering the ground, Kent sat and spread his legs, rubbing himself on the headstone. He couldn't actually feel the stone on his skin, since they weren't quite in the same plane, but it made him shiver in delight nonetheless, that almost contact, and the sheer idea of it. His imagination was a powerful tool.

"Killing you is one of my fondest memories. How it felt!" He groaned, closing his eyes and concentrating on the memory as he worked his hips. Bitty had been flush with love for Jack. It was an immature, young love, but with care, it could have grown into something greater. Thinking about how good it felt to rip that love out by the roots always put Kent instantly on edge.

He lazily rubbed himself, balls to shaft to tip and back, barely needing the touch. "Y'know, you weren't bad for a virgin. If I hadn't needed to kill you, you could've made a decent slut. I'd have been generous. I can see auras, after all. I could've introduced you to men who were a sure thing, who'd hurt a sweet boy like you so good. You'd have loved it, eventually. Or not. I wouldn't've cared."

Bitty had struggled so nicely each time Kent's control had faded enough to remind Bitty what he had to fight for. Yet it had always been pathetically easy to bring him back under control. He'd deserved it, trying to steal Jack when he clearly wasn't worthy. Trying to claim Jack's love, which had always been Kent's. He'd deserved worse.

Still alone, although he didn't bother to check, caught in the moment as he was, Kent flickered fully into the graveyard long enough to spray his come across Bitty's gravestone. It felt like claiming Jack all over again.

Kent snapped back to his hotel room, relaxing in his bed. He'd shower when he felt more solid and less like a puddle of bliss. Sometimes he wished Jack had loved 1,000 humans before coming back to him. He'd have killed them all, a mountain of bodies to prove his devotion.


End file.
